


my last bone of contention

by Windmire



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Kid Fic, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 18:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16624325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windmire/pseuds/Windmire
Summary: By now, all the other parents in West Valm Elementary School have learned to avoid Forsyth, head of the PTA. That or they'repartof the PTA or PTA asskissers, which are even worse, if that's even possible.Or they're Python. But Python? Python's not afraid of Forsyth.It's been years since Forsyth and Python really knew each other, back when they were children. But now that their own children are classmates, maybe they'll have a chance to reconnect.If the PTA doesn't kill Python first.





	my last bone of contention

**Author's Note:**

> look, i. have no excuse. but i'm not sorry.

By now, all the other parents in West Valm Elementary School have learned to avoid Forsyth, head of the PTA. That or they're _part_ of the PTA or PTA asskissers, which are even worse, if that's even possible.

Or they're Python. But Python? Python's not afraid of Forsyth. He went to grade school with the damn guy, for cripes' sake. He's seen him cry over skinned knees and A minuses on exams. The guy couldn't for really real scare him even if he tried.

It's just kind of a shame Forsyth himself doesn't seem to remember any of that time, but that's all right. Python can wait for that.

It totally has nothing to do with how the guy shot up and filled out. Totally.

Besides, he wouldn't even really blame the guy if he just made himself forget Python, because Python remembers what Forsyth was like in grade school. He remembers that tiny boy, with his nose in his history books and his head in the clouds, dreaming of the knights of old Zofia and Rigel like he really was about to step into one of the stories.

The catch is that he remembers, too. He remembers their last grade together before middle school, before Forsyth went on to the cushy local private school and Python most definitely didn't. And he remembers how Python made Forsyth cry after his presentation on knights that one time, saying something about how _obviously_ the knights had lost if they were all gone, but dragons were still around. Probably actually really hurt the kid's feelings and everything. Probably even enough to want to forget Python forever.

Pfft. He still thinks about it sometimes, too, when he looks at his kid's little green-haired classmate with the funny accent: _a dragon_. Dragons in their kids' class. He wonders if Forsyth ever remembers it too when he sees that kid... Picky. Chiki. Whatever her name is. Some dragon name, in any case.

Whatever. Little eleven year old Python can't have broken his spirit anyway if the guy ended up naming his daughter Zofia, of all things. Which is just typical of the guy, honestly.

At least his kid actually seems to get along with Forsyth's little terror.

Not that his kid isn't a terror himself, but Python's not blind to it like he thinks Forsyth might be.

Speak of the adorable little devil though.

He hears the sound of a familiar pair of little running feet before he sees Benji run down the school's front steps toward him, his backpack holding on to his shoulders by one quickly fraying strap.

Again. Jeez. What'd he even do to it this time?

"Benji, Benji," he says when the child in question comes close enough to raise his hands for a double high five. Python obliges him. "What happened to the backpack this time, buddy? You throw it out the window or something?"

"I'm not gonna throw my stuff out the windows, dad!" Benji huffs. "It was an accident, I just..." He shuffles his feet. "It was just 'cause I took my backpack to recess and some of the other kids aren't so careful and there was too much homework in my bag! It was too full so it broke!"

The strap. Right.

Python hums. "Yeah, second grade's rough on the homework. I know, kid," he says very solemnly. Time to fix the damn backpack then. Maybe for a talk with the teacher, too, if it happens again.

He sure hopes it doesn't happen again, he can't stand that teacher.

But the thought's pushed out of his head when he spots little Zofia Rigelia bounding down the steps as well, her dad right behind her tapping away at his ever-present tablet.

His _PTA tablet_.

Mila preserve him.

"Oh! Python!" Forsyth calls out when he lifts his head and spots him, just as Python's reaching for Benji to pull him back and walk very, very quickly away from the school. "Hold on a moment!"

"Forsyth," Python drawls, watching as he hurries to reach them, Zofia following at a more sedate pace. Like just about everything she does.

Benji makes a face at her, glancing between her and her dad. She doesn't bother to hide her laughter.

Like he said, a terror in her own right. And a terror that just has to be well aware of what kind of _terror_ her father inflicts on the school, at that.

"Python. Oh, Python. Were you very busy the day of the talent show?" Forsyth asks him then, so very earnest that Python could just puke.

"Nope." He grins and completely ignores Benji groaning beside him. Oh, he'll get over it.

Forsyth blinks at him, real confusion in his eyes. "But surely Benjamin wanted to go, didn't he? I heard all about how his and Zofia's class spent so long rehearsing for their act. The end result was quite lovely, too!"

Python bites the inside of his cheek. He could tell Forsyth the truth, he supposes, about how much Benji begged and begged and begged to just stay in and play video games that day because he _hated that stupid song so much, Dad, it was all the teacher's dumb idea_. But. Well, he did promise the kid he wouldn't tell anyone at the school the real reason.

Eh. It's a drag, but he doesn't mind taking the blame himself.

He shrugs. "Talent shows are kinda'..." He waves a hand dismissively. "Not my thing, y'know? Me and the Bens just stayed in, figured it wouldn't hurt him to miss just _one_ thing this year."

Forsyth purses his lips. "I... see. I suppose that is your right," he says, though the pinched look on his face is at odds with his words. But then he brightens, a scarily familiar gleam in his eye. "But this does mean that you'll be at the bake sale then, doesn't it?" He looks down at the tablet in his hands, quickly tapping something into it. "Only Tiki's guardian has signed up so far, so we're still short quite a few volunteers."

Oh. Tiki. Right. That was the dragon kid's name.

Too bad knowing the kid's name isn't what's going to get him out of this one. He gives Forsyth a strained smile, one he doesn't bother to try to make look real.

"Bake sale?" he asks, like he's never even heard the words in that order before. "Can't say I've heard anything about it."

Forsyth buys it. Not that it really helps him much, because instead of letting it go like a decent person, he just glances down at Benji, brows together. "No? Now, Benjamin, Zofia's told me all about how your teacher's been reminding your class of it throughout the last week. Did you forget to tell your father?"

"...Uh, yeah. Sure."

Forsyth nods, like that was exactly the answer he expected. "I see, I see. Well, in that case, and seeing as you missed out on the talent show, how would you like it if you and your father helped out at the bake sale? We're raising funds for materials for the science fair this year! I believe you were among the students last year who didn't participate for lack of materials? I was horrified to find the school didn't have them!"

Benji grimaces. Oooh, his worst school subject right there. And the exact same thing they'd lied about to get him out of it last year.

Super.

Forsyth doesn't wait for an answer. "I'm sure plenty of the other children will want to help as well. You'll have fun! What do you say, Benjamin?"

Benji doesn't even look at him. He just stares up at Forsyth in what Python can recognize as barely concealed horror, a plea in his eyes.

And one Python can't seem to think up a solution for. Whoops. Score one less for his parenting.

"I dunno," he hedges. "I'm sure plenty of parents'll sign up before you know it. Then what would me and Benji do there? It's not like you need _that_ many people running it."

"Oh, nonsense! You could only contribute some of the food, if you wanted, no amount would be too much."

Yeah, yeah, no amount would be too much till what? Till they had too much and didn't know what to do with it? He holds back a grimace. Yeah, he knows how that works.

If they don't give any leftovers to the kids, at the very least, he's complaining.

"Well, if there are no further objections..."

Benji tugs on his shirt, but nope. Nope. He needs a moment to think before he can come up with a good excuse, just a moment and--

Forsyth beats him to it.

"Well! All done! You're officially on the volunteer list." Grinning, Forsyth lifts his tablet, though too far away for either him or Benji to see what's actually on it. "Thank you, Python! And you as well, Benjamin!"

"Yeah, right. Sure..."

He's sure the look of horror on Benji's face mirrors his own pretty damn well right now. Ugh. Why are these people he has to see regularly?

Zofia giggles into her hand as her dad turns away--where he can't see her doing it, of course--and with her free hand, gives them both a jaunty little wave. "See you tomorrow, Benji! And at the bake sale!"

Python crosses his arms. "She enjoys this, doesn't she? The terror her dad inflicts on all of us poor suckers?"

Benji groans, the sound way too old for his poor eight years of life.

He'll take that as a yes.

-

They spend that evening trying to hash out a plan to get out of the bake sale, going back and forth, back and forth, until it's Benji himself who's throwing his hands up in the middle of the living room, shaking his head. "Forget it, Dad! We can just go! Maybe I can get the flu for the science fair!"

"Don't catch the flu," Python says absently. Yeah, nah, they went through that in kindergarten. He doesn't even want to joke about it.

Benji crosses his arms, staring up at him with all the resignation an eight year old can muster. " _Dad_. Let's just go. At least Zofia's gonna be there."

"Zofia's always there." He lets his phone drop onto his lap and straightens up in his seat. "But fine, fine. We'll live."

So that's how they end up bringing some store-bought cookies to the bake sale. Chocolate chip. Whatever, right? Kids love chocolate chip and they never last long at their place anyway, not with Benji sneaking another one every few hours and Python pretending he can't see him do it.

So he thinks his kid should have a few extra cookies every once in a while, sue him.

Too bad about all the PTA moms and Forsyth bringing in homemade desserts. Show-offs, every last one of them.

Even worse about the ones bringing the _expensive_ shit, from that one bakery downtown where Python's sure he'd get kicked out if he so much as looked directly at it from across the street.

They stop by the table _Miss Clair_ , sister of _Principal Clive_ , the rich bastard, is manning, full of some of the most expensive sweets Python's ever laid eyes on, no doubt brought in by some of the other PTA moms. And herself. And her brother.

Just the sight alone makes his teeth itch. And his wallet. Jeez, are teachers and principals even allowed to do that?

Benji, thankfully, chooses just then to show him that maybe his parenting choices really haven't been in vain.

"Dad," the kid mutters, tugging at his sleeve as he gives the spread on that table a disdainful look. "Eat the rich."

Python blinks, the words registering for him at the same time that Forsyth's scandalized gasp does, from where he's standing yards away from them.

Then he bursts out into laughter, so suddenly he can't _breathe_ for a moment there. "Atta boy!" he wheezes out, managing to raise a hand for a high five that Benji's quick to give him.

He can't even bring himself to care about Forsyth hastily apologizing behind them, stammering out something about how, "Please, you have to excuse them. I-I'm afraid this is somewhat of a comedy act for them, they don't truly mean it, not--"

"Yes, we do!" Benji pipes up and Python's never been prouder in his life.

He wipes an actual, honest to goodness, tear from his eye, straightening himself up against the table where Clair's running a hand down her face, sighing in what he's sure is closer to resignation than disdain.

Yeah, yeah, she was in their class in grade school, too. She more than knows what to expect from Python and anyone _he_ raises.

"Yeah!" he says, once he finds the breath for it. "Yeah, we do! And what are these prices anyway? This is a public grade school not one of your hoity-toity private schools."

"Python," Clair says on a sigh, to a chorus of Forsyth still stammering out increasingly frantic apologies to other parents and the sound of Benji running off to talk to Zofia where she's hiding her giggles. Clair cuts her eyes toward Forsyth, just a quick peek, then back to Python. " _Do_ you do these things just to rile him up?"

He shrugs, his laughter finally dying down. "Nah," he says, then concedes. "Sometimes. Totally not on purpose this time though. I swear, it was all him."

She sighs. "I worry about what you're teaching that child."

"Uh, only the right things."

"I also worry about how you're just pulling his pigtails," she mutters and Python freezes, mind slow to catch up with what she's implying.

What? No. She can't possibly mean that.

"What."

She shrugs, rather inelegantly considering it's _Clair_. "Oh, nothing! Forsyth's on his way back though, heads up!" she says, cheerful as can be, before plopping right back down on her stool to watch the show.

Typical.

See, the problem here is that, yeah. She hasn't changed either. Right down to thinking she knows exactly what's going on in everyone's heads.

(And that's... That's one he doesn't really want to touch right now anyway. He doesn't think he has the emotional real estate for it right now. Or ever.)

Then Forsyth's practically in his face and he's got no time to think about what a hellion _she_ was in grade school, too.

"For pity's sake, Python!" he says, eyes impossibly wide. "We're here to fundraise, not to offend the other parents!"

"Aw, come on, Forsyth." He crosses his arms, aiming a lazy grin at him. "They can just cry into their brownies if it bothers them that much. They'll be fine."

"Python!"

He groans. "What?"

Forsyth breathes in sharply through his nose. "Please, all I ask of you is that you take this seriously while you and Benjamin are here. Surely, it can't be too much to ask! I know even you can do this much! I do..." He draws himself up straighter, taller. "I do I know very well there are things you care about."

It's moments like this, really, with the purposeful, pointed tone to that, that make Python wonder if maybe Forsyth really does remember when they were classmates. But he discards the thought quickly enough, because eh, maybe someday he'll know for sure.

So Python just grunts noncommittally. Whatever, Forsyth probably just means Benji.

"Come on, Forsyth," he says instead of acknowledging that, giving him a lopsided smile. "You're having more fun than you would if it were just all the stuffy parents, admit it. You'd be soooo bored you wouldn't even know what to do with yourself if we weren't here."

Forsyth sputters and _ha_. So much for trying to look in control. Tight-ass.

"Be serious, Python. I... It's not all bad when it's the other parents."

"Hmm? That so?"

"Yes. I-I have a very important job, you see. They look to me to ensure every activity goes smoothly." He frowns, in what Python's sure he thinks is a very stern way. "So they don't want to see any of the other parents be anything less than supportive."

Python shrugs, much to Forsyth's mounting frustration.

Well, they're probably not getting invited to any more school bake sales in the future. At least not to ones anyone here's running.

But he thinks he might be more than okay with that.

And, hey, if later, when he and Clair end up in the middle of what may or may not be another "friendly" argument, he catches Forsyth trying his utmost hardest to hide a smile later...

It's not like he notices those things anyway.

Honest.

-

A couple months later, Forsyth sidles up next to him in front of the school while they wait for classes to let out.

"Python! There you are, just the man I wanted to speak to!"

Python raises his eyebrows. Well, it's not like he minds, really, when Forsyth isn't trying to rope him into another PTA thing, but. "Seriously?"

"Yes, of course! There was just..." He shakes his head. "I happened to be in our children's classroom today."

"Uh huh?"

"It's because I was there to speak to Mister Nomah about the upcoming book fair. But then I couldn't help but overhear that the children were speaking about their families--which was really very sweet," he goes on, in that way of his where he barely even pauses to stop for air. "Benjamin's adopted? I had no idea, he looks just like you!"

Python squints at him. Benji doesn't. Really. His mother was his second cousin and Python took after the _other_ side of the family. There really _isn't_ that much of a resemblance between them. It's just that people are usually too polite to point it out. Or they assume he takes after the other theoretical parent. Whatever.

So this? Jeez. He doesn't know if it's straight up stupid or adorable.

Maybe both.

"What? Adopted?" Python scratches his head. "Nah, he kinda' just followed me home one day. And I kinda' just never kicked him out. Seemed kinda' cruel to do that."

Forsyth's expression is nothing short of _horrified_ , and it takes a whole lot of effort for Python to hold back the laugh that's threatening to burst out of him.

"I'm kidding," he says dryly.

As expected, Forsyth flushes. "For pity's sake, Python! Is there nothing you can be serious about?"

"Ehhh." Python waves a hand dismissively. "Honestly? Probably not."

Forsyth groans. Loudly. It's hilarious.

But then something strange steals across Forsyth's face, an expression that's just a little too focused for Python's comfort. "Well! If you have time to be joking about your son's parentage this way, then surely you have time to help the PTA with another event, don't you?"

Aw cripes. He should've run when Forsyth even mentioned the book fair. At least Benji likes them.

But all right. All right, he can deal with this.

Python rolls his eyes, making sure to exaggerate the motion just enough to have Forsyth twitching. "Who? Me? I'm a single parent, Fors! I never have time for anything. Not even book fairs."

Forsyth gives him a flat look. "Funnily enough, Python, I'm also a single father. And I do recall you being at the bake sale."

"And _I_ do recall you not being real happy with me during it."

A scoff is the answer he gets. "I would hope you'd be better behaved this time after that particular incident. Besides, it's a different kind of event. I don't think you or your son could offend any of the parents in quite the same way, those of them that will even be willing to be there, in any case," he finishes on a mutter, eyes firmly fixed somewhere above Python's left shoulder.

Ha.

"All right," he drawls. "Lemme guess. Some of them complained?"

"Well, of course they complained! What did you expect, Python?"

He shrugs. "Dunno," he admits. "I always got out of your PTA stuff before that. Benji wasn't wrong though."

"Of course you think that..." Forsyth runs a hand through his hair. "Be serious. Will you help or not?"

Python snorts. 

Maybe there's something to what Clair was going on about the other day, he very determinedly does not think. Because he's finding it a little hard _now_ to say no to the face Forsyth pulls at him now, somewhere between exasperated and hopeful.

Damn him.

To his great freaking luck, that's when Benji and Zofia choose to run out of the school together, giggling about something or other as they wave goodbye to each other before he has to answer.

Convenient enough that Python grabs his kid and beats a hasty retreat.

Though he does stop to wave and wink at Forsyth before he does, parting with a cheery little, "See ya, big guy!"

"But... But what about the book fair?!"

-

The thing is that Python never really meant to have kids. Ever. But then his single cousin had to go and croak, leaving her baby behind, and between everyone else in the family that had already also kicked the bucket or fucked off overseas, that left either Python or his parents to take care of the kid. Or the system. And his dad was (is) still as useless a drunk as ever and his mom still was (is) as checked out as ever, so that left Python as the only decent choice.

Which is how he got himself saddled with a newborn kid when he didn't have the slightest idea how to even change a diaper.

There was an adjustment period.

A long adjustment period.

And he's not exactly the kind of guy people expect to be the parent to an eight year old either, he knows that. Hell, he's pretty sure his next door neighbor was expecting him to somehow lose the kid all throughout those first few years and he couldn't even blame her for it. He knows what people generally think of him--lazy, unmotivated, irresponsible.

But he made it work and, frankly, he doesn't give a damn. Not like he needs glowing reviews from anyone.

He knows it can give Benji a little more trouble than either of them would strictly like though. So maybe he's come up with an unconventional way to deal with the probing questions and skeptical looks aimed at his adopting the kid in the first place.

And maybe he has a little more fun with it than he strictly should. It's harmless, right? Serves them all right for being so damn nosy anyway.

Which is why, when he's late one afternoon to the school and finds Benji already out on the sidewalk, talking to Zofia and _Forsyth_ , of all people, that he can't quite help the smile that curls his lips.

That last conversation was only a month ago, after all.

Benji's shrugging when Python draws close enough to see him properly, his arms loose at his sides. "Well, _yeah_ , Zofia knows how I got adopted. We're _friends_. But it's not a story you can tell everyone you're not friends with, you know? Not even to friends' dads! 'Cause that's _private_!"

"So there's other stories!" Zofia helpfully pipes up, the very picture of innocence. "They're really good stories, too, Benji's dad is really good at stories."

Benji snickers. "Aaaaaand maybe one of them's even true. Maybe."

Oh. _Oh_. Python couldn't be any prouder than he is right now. He's taught his kid well. _And_ he's made good friends, too. What more could he ask for while he's still in the second grade?

"One time," Benji says with a grin. "He told Mrs Elimine across the hall that he found me in the backyard one day and he fed me and I just kept coming back like a cat."

"Excuse me?! Mrs Elimine?! The one whose grandson is the school nurse?!" Forsyth shakes his head, clutching his tablet close to his heart. "How could he tell such lies to a poor old woman like her? And with all the times Lucius has helped you when you've--"

Python groans and cuts in with, "We live on a third floor, we don't even have a backyard. Mrs Elimine is ninety-four, not stupid."

He can't believe he needs to say this.

As far as ways to announce his presence go, it's not a bad one. Though he's going to have to file away the way Forsyth practically leaps out of his skin at the sound of his voice, the tips of his ears flushing red, to examine later.

Interesting.

"Hey, guys." He raises an eyebrow. "You all enjoying yourselves there?"

"Dad!"

"Hi, Mister Python!"

"Ah, yes, Zofia and I were just keeping Benjamin company until you arrived," Forsyth says quickly, in what Python could swear is him visibly gathering his dignity around him. "It's good to see you." 

"It is?" He asks it just because, really, no particular reason, but once the words are out of his mouth, he realizes that maybe... Maybe he's a little more interested in the answer than he thought he'd be.

"Of course it is! Our children are friends and you're hardly a stranger, in any case."

"I'm not?" He doesn't really think before letting the question fly loose, almost a reflex.

"O-of course not. Benjamin and Zofia have been classmates since kindergarten. How could you possibly be a stranger?"

Ah, yeah. That's it. Right.

...He's not sure why he was expecting a different answer. Hoping for, maybe.

Whatever. He'll chalk it up to temporary insanity. That happens, right? With annoying-ass PTA heads who you knew when you were a little shit of a kid yourself but who don't even seem to remember that?

Totally.

"Well, thanks for keeping the kid company." He pauses, considering, just for a moment, whether to actually say what's on the tip of his tongue. Then decides. To hell with it, they all gave him the perfect opening. "Since you're so curious again though. Just so you know, Benji just came from this like... lady in a cloak? Real tiny lady, real old. Kinda' smelled funny and don't even ask me where she got the cloak from. Anyway, she asked me for... What was it... I don't even remember, honestly, she said it wasn't even important. _Intangible_ or whatever. But she gave me Benji in exchange. Don't ask me where _she_ got him from either though. Something was tellin' me I really didn't wanna know." He pats Benji on the head. "And he's been with me ever since."

Zofia giggles, Benji joining her just a split-second after.

"I'm sure," Forsyth says archly.

They stare at each other in silence, for long enough that Python internally, debates another tactical retreat, until Forsyth lets out a slow sigh.

"Since you're here now, I do have a favor to ask of you though Python."

Aaaaand there it is.

Benji tenses beside him, no doubt already having an idea what Forsyth's going to say, but. It's fine. It's fine, he's the adult here. "Uh huh?"

"I couldn't help but notice you never did assist with the book fair, though I did see you there that day."

Python grins, holding up his hands. "Guilty as charged," he says, unrepentant. "So what's my punishment gonna be for it, huh? Ten years in the bake sales?"

He almost, almost thinks Forsyth's about to roll his eyes at him--which he'd consider a pretty big win, thank you. But instead, he just sighs _again_ and looks down at his tablet. "We need another chaperone for the field trip to the museum last week."

Python blinks. "What."

Forsyth doesn't quite look at him. "Miss Sonya had to cancel at the last minute, I'm afraid, and it'll be very difficult to find someone else at such short notice. As you so neatly dodged the last activity, I'm sure you'll have no trouble helping with this one, now will you?"

Python bites the inside of his cheek. Oh. Great. Forsyth's doing that "annoyingly earnest pleading face" thing again and...

When exactly did it get hard to say no to that face? Should he be reminding himself of making the guy cry that once to make it stop?

Ugh. Python does roll his eyes. "Do I gotta ride on the school bus?"

And he's gotta say. He really freaking hates the way Forsyth smiles at him at that.

Mostly.

-

So, a field trip to a museum? With a bunch of snot-nosed brats he doesn't even know? Not just his own kid?

Not ideal. Especially when the only adult chaperones end up just being him, Forsyth, Nomah, and Clair, like something straight out of what he'd see during sleep paralysis.

Not that he... Ah, entirely _minds_ Forsyth really, but.

He grimaces from where he follows behind the group of way too damn many second graders. Okay. Maybe if they got rid of two of the chaperones it'd be okay.

But he's not exactly built to actually acknowledge those thoughts, thanks.

Thankfully, Clair seems to have matters well at hand with the younger grades, so Python lets himself linger in the rooms they pass through, only keeping half an eye out to make sure no kids wander away from the group.

Not that the exhibits in the museum are particularly exciting to him, but what the hell does he know about chaperoning field trips anyway? It's better this way. Probably.

It'd probably be better if he had someone to share the misery with, but Clair and Nomah are hardly the ideal people for that. And neither's Forsyth, for that matter, but at least his reactions to all of _this_ are usually entertaining.

Too bad he can't see Forsyth anywhere near the group anymore, not since he mumbled something about checking in with the school and ran off.

He didn't expect to feel as disappointed by that as he does.

But it's fine, he thinks, rolling his eyes at himself. Not like he has the emotional real estate for that either.

If anything, he has half a mind to find out just where in the world Forsyth wandered off to before he bothers rejoining the group. With one last look at where Clair's stopped them at the other end of the room, and after making sure Benji doesn't seem like he's even _thinking_ of wandering away, he slips out and back into the wide connecting hallways, hands in his pockets.

Just a peek won't hurt, right? He's sure Mister Head of the PTA will turn out to be responsible enough to go back to the kids before Python himself does.

Which is probably why it strikes him as more than a little weird when he wanders into another exhibition and finds the man himself there, whispering harshly into his phone.

" _Please_ , I'm telling you, I don't know! Yes, of course I've tried! No! No! It doesn't mean--"

Definitely, definitely interesting.

Because he just can't help himself, Python says, in a louder voice than the one Forsyth is trying--keyword being _trying_ \-- to use, "Kinda' suspicious things to be saying in an empty museum exhibit, dontcha think? We got ourselves some kinda amateur thief here?"

Forsyth freezes, and he stuffs his phone into his pocket so damn fast he's surprised the guy doesn't pull something. " _Python!_ " he hisses. "Someone might actually take you seriously when you say those things!"

"Eh." Python shrugs. Once he's close enough, he bumps his shoulder against Forsyth's and makes damn sure he sees the way he raises his eyebrows at him. "We'll cross that bridge if we get to it. But okay, but seriously, what the hell? You ditched us. Doesn't take that long to call the school, does it? Or were you having some kind of tiff with Clive--"

"I wasn't speaking with Clive right now!" Forsyth practically squeaks out, shaking his head. "It was someone else!"

"Yeah, that ain't making you sound any less suspicious, buddy. Should I call security?"

"Oh, will you stop that! It was my mother, you insufferable--"

Python doesn't bother to listen to the end of that. "Huh. Really? Forsyth arguing with his mom, that's a surprise."

"It wasn't an argument. She just, ah..." Forsyth crosses his arms. "Caught wind of who some of the other chaperones for this field trip were. And she had some questions about..." He mumbles, "You."

Well.

Does that mean Forsyth's _mom_ remembers him? Because that is so not how he was expecting this whole thing to shake out. "Oooookay." It's slow, sluggish, but he thinks he can feel the gears in his brain beginning to turn in _just_ the right direction at that. "So does the reason your mom's asking about me have anything to do with the reason you kept wanting to know where my kid came from? Cause, I don't know, Forsyth, sounds to me like you should know where babies come from by now. Your mom, too."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Python, of course I know where babies come from! I just..." He crosses his arms, but doesn't back off, staring Python down like he's got some kind of point to prove. "I was curious. I did want to know more about your life during the last almost twenty years, you know? There's no shame in that."

Wait. _The last twenty years_?

"Wait a freaking minute," he blurts out. "You trying to tell me you remember when we knew each other when we were kids?!"

Forsyth groans, loudly, running a hand down his face. "For the love of--" He lowers his hand to glare up at Python. The end result is only slightly more intimidating than when Benji glares at him. "Of course I remember. I remembered all along, what do you take me for! I thought _you_ were the one who didn't want to acknowledge any of it!"

Python blinks. "Uh. Really? Cause I kinda' thought either you really did forget me or you were just still mad I made you cry that one time."

Forsyth flushes what he will never admit is actually a pretty damn fetching pink. "I will have you know I did not cry! I was simply... _frustrated_ at how intent you were on ruining my presentation."

"Huh." Python shrugs. "Eh, y'know. I was eleven and a little shit."

"You're still a little shit..." Forsyth mumbles and he cannot _believe_ it.

Did he really just...

"I..." There's only one possible answer to that. "What the hell. Rude. You totally did cry!"

"Stop this!"

Python can't help the laugh that bursts out of him at that, holding out a hand to fend Forsyth off. "Forsyth, buddy. Buddy." And he just can't keep the grin off his face. "Lemme get this straight. Does that mean you were really doing all this just to try to talk to me? The PTA activities, the volunteering me for them. The whole shebang?"

Forsyth jolts. "Of course not! Only the questions were. I take my PTA responsibilities very seriously, I will have you know!" He glares at Python, mouth set in a thin line. Then, when Python doesn't react, his shoulders slump and lets out a long, gusty sigh. "But it was a nice bonus, I will admit."

Python probably shouldn't be flattered by that.

But he finds he is.

Clair can never find out.

He rubs at the back of his neck. "You ever think about just picking up the phone? Maybe sending me a text?"

Forsyth sniffs. "You never answer either."

All right. That's true. "Fair," he concedes. "But y'know I'm still at the school every morning and every afternoon, right?"

"And trying to run away from me!"

"Hey! It's the whole PTA thing, okay! You're, like, scarily into it, Fors."

"Only because someone has to be!" Then, grudgingly, "I didn't think it would bother you so much. In fact, those seemed to me like the only times you'd even talk to me!"

Python shrugs. "Buddy, you coulda' just... I don't know, asked me out for coffee or something instead?"

"Maybe," Forsyth says grudgingly. Then, in typical Forsyth fashion, he gets right up in his space, staring him down with eerie intensity. "Would you then? Go with me on a... a coffee date?"

"Not a meeting?"

Forsyth only seems to realize what he's actually _said_ then, judging by the way he only flushes all the more. "W-well, if you'd like it to be, certainly. But I... would not mind it being... _that_ either."

So. A date, huh? Crap, he shouldn't like the sound of that as much as he does.

"Moving kinda' fast, don't you think, Romeo?"

"We _are_ each single parents," Forsyth gamely answers, not quite looking at him. "What was it you said? We never have time for anything? Might as well."

Python snickers. Oh, damn him, he's actually going to say yes.

"Sure. Wouldn't wanna make you cry or anything by saying no."

"Python!"

He can't quite contain his laughter, again, when only moments later, a red-faced Forsyth shoves him into an alcove and pulls him into a kiss. A little bit sloppy, a little bit overeager, and a hell of a lot fast, but so very fitting for this man that--and he wouldn't admit it even under threat of torture--he's actually _charmed_.

It's disgusting.

He loves it.

So he just pulls Forsyth all the closer, slowing the kiss down into something he can deal with.

Until Clair's voice rings out in the hallway, looking for the both of them, and with one last laugh, and Forsyth's lips twitching in what's not quite a grin, they slip out of their little alcove and back towards the group.

All right. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

-

He can't decide whether he's surprised or completely _un_ surprised when Forsyth invites him and Benji to dinner at his folks' place just a month later, just days before summer break starts for the school. He's all aflutter when he asks Python, cheeks pink and words coming out so quickly he's mildly concerned the guy will just keel over from lack of air.

And that's just so disgustingly _Forsyth_ of him that he can't decide whether he's charmed by it or whether he's more disgusted than he's ever been in his entire life.

But Python just shrugs at him and accepts the invitation, because hey. Why the hell not, right? He vaguely remembers Forsyth's family and they were... not all that bad, really.

So he's only a _little_ late when he arrives that night, dressed halfway decently, because hell if he knows what they're all expecting. He didn't exactly think to ask. And it's just. It's just a button up shirt anyway, nothing that took much effort.

Forsyth's parents are just as polite as he remembers them from grade school. And though they very definitely remember _him_ , they don't seem to hold a grudge for any of the crap he pulled as a kid either so that's...

...Nice. Forsyth's family is _nice_ , he has to grudgingly admit. They don't even blink an eye at the change in Python and Forsyth's relationship. Hell, Forsyth's mom just _hugs_ him when he walks into their living room, then Benji, like it's nothing. Like she's just greeting Forsyth and Zofia.

Then his dad's clapping Python on the shoulder and.

And it's weird. Python's parents were never like this. To be honest, he's not even sure what to do with it.

Hell, the whole _evening_ actually goes by pretty damn nicely

Then Forsyth's dad asks about Benji's other parent and, even as Forsyth's eyes widen in dread, Python can't help the grin that comes to his lips.

Yeah, all right. He's just going to call this whole damn evening a rousing success.

"Another parent?" He sets down his fork carefully, shaking his head. "Nah, it's always just been me and Benji here, no other parent with us." Forsyth steps on his foot, hard, but Python only fixes his grin more firmly on his face, letting his eyes widen in mock earnestness. "You see, I didn't really think I'd ever have kids! But Benji just crawled in my window one day and what was I gonna do? Kick a toddler out into the streets?"

" _Python_! You live on a third floor!"

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


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